


Consequences

by Heaerk



Series: DreamSMP lore continuations and theories idk [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Prison, Psychological Torture, Torture, will breaker woooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heaerk/pseuds/Heaerk
Summary: Instead of acting explosively angry, the Warden was cold. The Warden knew that there needed to be justice, and revenge. But what if he went farther than revenge?There's a lot of dark themes in this one// torture, manipulation, gaslighting, violent imagery
Series: DreamSMP lore continuations and theories idk [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138691
Comments: 21
Kudos: 178





	1. Karma

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another attempt of me being dramatic- I'm not as proud of this one as Perseverance, but I'm still posting it lol
> 
> I just feel like torture (and description of torture), if taken far enough, can become cheesy
> 
> also, this fic is somewhat inspired by this thread: https://twitter.com/dr3amofagame/status/1366746339653144581

"There's a consequence for everything you do, Dream," the Warden had told him weeks, if not months ago.

The Warden was right.

If he burned his clock? No meals for a day (or two).

If he called the Warden his 'normal' name? A few potatoes deducted every occasion.

If he showed any sign like defiance? No visitors for a week.

Anything else was enforced by the amount of potatoes he got a meal.

But he didn't care about how much he ate or how much he slept didn't he? Nothing mattered if he was going to stay in the same little box for the rest of his life.

Some might argue that the conditions of the Prison were terrible. He almost agreed with them.

Almost.

He was a monster, and monsters deserve what they got.

And so, when Tommy became trapped in his little box with him, he knew that there would be consequences when Tommy got out. Far worse than before.

Because Tommy would only get out if the Warden found out who caused the security breach and why they'd done it. And Dream was directly linked to why Ranboo had exploded tnt all over the roof of the Prison.

He had asked him to, after all.

He truly thought that Tommy was his friend and their friendship was reparable. Until Tommy shouted at him and screamed against him and told him that his exile was much worse than his treatment at Prison.

So he yelled back.

Things calmed down after the second day. They simply ignored each other as best as they could, picking up as little small talk as possible.

It was extremely tense for both of them, to say the least.

Sam- the Warden had upped his food supply during Tommy's stay, but only by a little. Dream let Tommy have most of the potatoes.

Tommy would grab all of the potatoes that were falling, then hand half to him. He'd refuse, telling him that he could survive a few days without food, and Tommy would hungrily eat the food.

He didn't know that he cared for Tommy so much.

On the sixth day, a glitch happened. Tommy's cat from the Hotel (which Tommy had described that he had built) somehow teleported into the cell.

Dream has always loved cats.

He had never had one before, so over the night, he grew attached to it. Not that he'd admit his attachment, of course.

Over the night, he petted the smooth fur when Tommy wasn't looking, relishing its softness.

On the 7th day, Tommy began talking. Talking and talking and talking, never stopping and ongoing. He even punched the cat once, despite his attempts to nudge Tommy away.

Tommy was always making some noise or the other. Talking or pacing or doing something with his hands.

Then the Warden appeared.

Was it time? Time for Tommy to leave?

He knew that despite how annoying Tommy was, he'd miss the company that he gave.

The Warden told Tommy that he couldn't let him out, even when Tommy pleaded with him that he needed to leave.

Dream was surprised that the Warden hadn't found the reason for the breach yet, and at the fact that the Warden didn't let Tommy out. It was against protocol.

He thought that the Warden was more compassionate than that.

Tommy then turned his hate at the Warden towards Dream.

Then begged him to let him out.

Shouted at the cat for taking his spot on the chest (which he couldn't even fit in).

Slapped it as he tried to get it off the spot, to lead it to the lava.

Again. And again.

Asked him if he loved the cat. Dream admitted that he did, throat dry.

Dream had tried his best to block his cursed, hateful blows, but it was useless.

Finally put of of its misery, the cat died.

He stared at the limp body as it disintegrated. It was probably better for it to have died anyways, than to live with a broken body.

And then Tommy said it.

"Yeah, and that's what happens when you love something, bitch."

He looked back at Tommy. And then the spot where it used to be. And back.

He ignored the rest of the incessant child's talking, thinking.

_Is Tommy right?_

Tommy had killed the cat. He thought that the cat was hope for him, hope that someone, something could love him.

Tommy had killed his hope.

Then Tommy began shouting at him again.

Mocking him.

Saying that once he left, Dream would be alone. Because he was lonely.

_Manipulative._

Telling him things, despicable things with malice and loathing in his voice.

Was he?

_Was I?_

He wasn't manipulative.

But he was.

And he was lonely.

And he hated Tommy for telling him the horrible, terrible, truth.

So he in his seething rage, hidden well under a solid mask and unshaking hands, he told Tommy spitefully that he was planning to escape.

He'd escape.

He'd escape and get revenge; what Tommy had just done had motivated him.

And they shouted at each other, and they punched each other-

Tommy asked him how he'd get out.

He told him that he had a favor.

Tommy shouted at him hateful words, he finally truly realized that Tommy truly hated him.

Not his friend, not a close companion.

_Hated him._

Thought him a monster. A liar. A manipulator.

Deluded.

He promised himself that he would get out of here.

He promised himself that he would get his revenge, somehow.

For Hope.

Then Tommy told him that the only reason, the _only_ reason why he was still alive, was that he and Tubbo needed the revive book.

So Dream told him that he'd never use it.

Then Tommy told him that the Prison wasn't worse than the exile.

But it was! _Right?_

And after, with his pretentious and proud tone, as if he thought he had finally figured it all out, he told Dream that the revival book wasn't real.

That he was a liar.

A psychopath.

So the revival book wasn't real. That Jschlatt was just a stupid drunk man.

_A liar._

He had lied. Lied so much, pretended to be strong when he was weak, told his enemies falsities to protect his friends.

But he didn't lie about the revival book.

A sad little man. Insecure, Tommy grinned his shit-eating grin.

Stupid.

Useless.

He told Tommy, "You can't kill me! But I can kill you!" He screamed it, shouted it.

Self-obsessed.

Tommy bit back that he could kill him. That the reason he wouldn't was because he would leave the Prison.

He began punching him, Tommy shouting at him to stop. That he was on two hearts.

He stopped.

Tommy continued to mock him. _Mocked him when he gave mercy._

Dream was done.

Done with the bullshit.

Done with Tommy.

He slammed the younger into the wall and slammed his fist into Tommy, unstopping despite the boy's fading pleas and cries. He could revive Tommy to prove that he had the book.

But the instant he heard the dreadful _crack_ of his neck, he snapped out of his blind, adrenaline-fueled rage, frozen in shock.

He noticed the red-painted walls and floor.

The prone body on the floor, lifeless.

The terror on Tommy's face before his body disappeared.

He was a monster.

He had killed Tommy. For good.

_He was a monster._

_He was a monster._

_A psychopath._

_A manipulator._

_Deluded._

_A sad, little man. Lonely._

_Tommy was_ right _._

He thought it was alright to kill Tommy because he could revive him again.

He tried to tell himself that Tommy deserved it, for all the hate and lies that he spewed out of his dirty mouth, for killing his own cat out of spite, which Dream loved more than him.

He laughed bitterly at himself. He had just proved that he was exactly what Tommy said he was.

Then he noticed that the lava was gone. When had it disappeared?

The Warden was standing on the other side, shouting something.

Dread crept up into his heart, fear encompassing him.

He turned around, turning to face the Warden with seemingly no worry.

 _Appear strong when you are weak_ , the ancient texts had taught him. They were all that kept him alive, the knowledge that he had learned from the ancient texts.

"Dream. You know there are consequences for everything you do," the tall and cold Warden told him as the pistons pushed and pulled the artfully carved stone platform over. He stepped off, and the platform moved itself back.

He had thought for a second about jumping onto it, but dismissed the idea just as quick. He wouldn't be able to get to it before it was too far away for him to reach.

"Yes, I know, _Sam_." He used the Warden's real name to spite him. He was already in trouble, so why not let his mouth run free?

"Warden. I am the _Warden_ to you," his tone was icy.

"Sure, _Warden_ ," he emphasized the title with a mocking tone.

The Warden's face somehow seemed more murderous than how it was already.

"You killed Tommy."

It was a statement.

"Yes. But I can revive him."

There was a few moments of silence before the Warden began again, "You know, Dream, over the past few minutes, I've come to realize something."

He remained silent, not knowing what to say at that.

"Monsters don't deserve mercy, Dream. They don't deserve anything. And you're a monster," the Warden's voice was conversating. "Monsters need to be broken. Not killed, but broken so they- you can't hurt anyone else."

So is this what the Warden was going to do? To _break_ him?

He realized the implications.

The Warden stared down at him, who was sitting on the ground as casual as he could.

"Break me..?"

He laughed scornfully, "Is that's what you're going to do? Go ahead!" 

_Just be careful not to step on the glass shards._

Dream was known for being resilient. For staying strong in his weakest points, for his persistence and never giving up. A glass sculpture, if you will.

People may chip away at him, his sanity may crumble, but as he does, he remains beautiful and magnificent until he shatters and dies. Every time people swing a hammer at him, the shards fly out and cut them. Then they forget what they've done and when they try to help they bleed from the jagged edges they've created themselves.

So he wouldn't stop being himself until his very last breath, he wouldn't stop huffing and puffing until he blew the house down, or strategizing and hiding away until he knew that it was the right time to strike.

A sword materialized in his hand, "Consequences, Dream. Killing Tommy has a consequence, and I bet you were the one who planned for the security breach anyways."

The sword was glimmering and dark, made of a grim, dark grey and purple steel. It shimmered and glittered with enchantments that strengthened and preserved the weapon, making it more dangerous than how it already was.

"Correct!" he grinned, almost madly. The Warden could kill him, but he could never truly die until he broke. And the Warden would be careful not to kill him when that happened. They still needed the revival book.

"But you don't know the _consequence_ for breaking me, do you?"

He couldn't let the Warden ask about who he had asked to cause the explosions. He couldn't let himself bring Ranboo into this.

"There is no consequence for that, Dream. This is _my_ Prison," the Warden told him, indifferent.

"Who's server is it? Who's land is this? It's not mine, not anymore, but what do you think Sapnap will think? How about George? What about Tubbo and Ranboo and Technoblade and everyone else when they see what you've done?" he spat back, standing up as smoothly as he could.

"They won't care," the Warden informed him coldly. "They don't care about you anymore."

"But _Sam_ , they'll see your power. And they'll fear your power, and do you know what happens to things and people that everyone fears?"

"They won't know," the Warden said sharply, stalking towards him. "They have your name muted on their communicators."

 _Oh._ His face fell. Then lit up.

There was always a consequence. Karma.

Even if it had to be him who dealt it. (He'd get out. Eventually.)

"Go on then. Kill me. _Break me_. Break the _monster_ that I apparently am," he laughed again, taunting him without hesitation.

So the Warden swung at him with grim determination.

His head flew dramatically off his neck as his body began to crumple, beheaded.

Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker

He didn't fear death. For a man who lived on half a heart, death wasn't something he was worried about. "Go on, little Warden. Play your little ga-"

The Warden stabbed him in the stomach. Waited for him to bleed out as he screamed.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

Impaled through the heart before he could move.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

"Things will only get more painful from here," the Warden informed coldly.

" _Sure_ ," he replied sarcastically.

The Warden grabbed his shoulder roughly, turned him around, and pushed him to the ground. His head hit the ground with a _thud_. He groaned, his head pounding and shoulder throbbing.

He then, in two slow movements, sliced smooth, deep, trenches in the shape of an "X" on his back as he pressed Dream's writhing body to the ground. He screamed.

"Having fun?" he challenged, coughing as he bit his lips in pain.

"This is revenge," the Warden answered simply.

It took him longer to bleed out this time.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

"Or, actually, justice for what you've done," he told Dream calmly as he sliced delicately and methodically one, two, three... ten times into his arms.

Dream had told himself that he'd persevere and live through it all to get revenge. He had told himself that he could survive whatever the Warden did to him. 

He'd live through and escape.

But he had forgotten how much it could hurt. How dizzying and blinding and how encompassing the pain could be, radiating out to his entire body.

He let his mouth scream, horridly and desperately, cracking multiple times in tone. He wished for death, for an end to it all. Yet he knew that there'd be no coup de grâce for him.

Not for a monster, and certainly not a villain as evil as he.

Was he a monster? Was he a villain? he asked himself as he drowned in the pain. _Do I deserve this?_

_Does anyone deserve this?_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

"STOP!" he shouted before the Warden could make his next cut, sobbing. "PLEASE!"

How shameful it was, for him to turn against his own promise so quickly. He hated the desperation in his voice and how loud he had yelled it.

"You didn't stop when Tommy screamed."

The Warden towered over his fallen body, prone in the pool. His sword had disappeared, but Dream knew that it wasn't over yet.

"So tell me, Dream. Tell me, how did Tommy die?"

There was no more remorse left in him. If this was what justice and revenge called for, then Tommy deserved what he had gotten.

So he shameless croaked, with the same mad smile as he had on the mountaintop, during Doomsday, after the Final L'manburgian War, before the L'manburg Independence War, and all the occasions in between, "I punched him."

"I punched him until he died," Dream told him, in a voice both fearless and pained.

"You know what happens next, don't you?"

He wanted to act brave. He wanted to act fearless, like he was still strong. But he couldn't. Not anymore.

His sudden madness was gone with his energy. He didn't move.

The Warden's armored fist crashed into him, over and over and over and over and over.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude_

Again and again and again, as he screamed for mercy. Just like how Tommy did.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude_

But this was karma. And karma had no mercy.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude_

Gone was his plans for escape and revenge. His goal now was survival.

A few more rounds passed of half lucidness, half blinding pain, before the Warden stopped.

"Dream," the Warden arranged him so he could look in his eyes, "I'm going to fix you."

But he couldn't help but run his mouth with a humorous glint in his eye, "I thought you were going to break me."

The Warden's sword materialized again and slammed down into his chest.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

"I'll break you, then fix you until you're better," the Warden told him, propping him up again. He kneeled so Dream would have to stare right into his unforgiving eyes. "I'll make you so everyone will love you again, and you could leave the Prison. Don't you want that?"

He did. He desperately wanted to, but everything came with a price. Everything came with a consequence.

The thing was though, surviving meant playing along.

So he needed to play along.

"Yeah," he swallowed, looking at the Warden who was trapping him in the corner.

"Good!" the sudden bright tone caught him by surprise, and he almost flinched. "Good."

The Warden paused before speaking again, "But I don't think you're broken. Not yet, at least."

Dream's breath caught.

"But I'll be back tomorrow."

He let out a small breath.

"Remember, monsters don't deserve mercy. And what are you?"

He refused to answer.

"Tell me. Answer."

"A monster," he whispered.

"Louder."

"I'm a monster."

The Warden stood up smoothly, turned around, and pearled to the other side, gone.

The lava descended.

Dream let out a horribly shaky breath.

The visit had gone worse, much worse than he had thought it would go.

He was a monster.

No he wasn't.

Yes he was.

No he wasn't.

 _You're a monster_ , the Warden, Sam, had said. His old friend, who used to be his beloved brother.

_Monsters need to be broken._

_Not killed, but broken so you can't hurt anyone else._

Was Tommy right?

Was he a monster, a villain, a psychopath, a manipulator, a deluded, sad, little man?

That didn't really matter anymore though.

It didn't matter what he thought of himself. Only what others thought of him.

It didn't matter anymore.

Dream is still a beautiful glass sculpture.

Albeit one that is more broken than a few hours before, but still a glass sculpture.

It didn't matter how chipped and scratched it was. What mattered was that it was still a glass sculpture, and would continue to be until it no longer was.


	2. Deterioration

Dream knew to bide his time. He knew how to wait until it was the right time to strike, and when he struck, he'd fall like a thunderbolt.

But he feared that if he played along long enough, he'd become what he pretended to be.

The man who had lived on half a heart didn't fear death. He feared everything worse than it.

And if he played along, he'd have to act broken. He could become what he feared.

The night passed without any sleep or food.

It was fine though. He was used to not sleeping or eating.

As he thought, something struck him. The clock was gone.

He didn't know why he missed it so much.

He also missed the cat. Hope.

He supposed he kind of did have a hope.

A hope that, if he played along well enough, he'd eventually get released.

He'd get revenge. He didn't know what exactly he wanted to do for revenge, but he'd figure something out.

He'd also get a cat.

Dream traced the scars he had received during the visit.

Every time someone died and respawned, they'd receive the scar for the cause of the death. If it was a normal death, the person could wish it gone and it'd disappear after a week or so. If it was a canon death, it'd be permanent.

He considered making them go away, but ultimately decided to keep them as a reminder.

A reminder that there is still revenge to serve.

He'd keep Ranboo safe.

Ranboo, the only one he trusted, and who he let into his heart, because he knew that the Ranboo everyone else knew did not know.

The Ranboo everyone else knew didn't know the Ranboo that only he knew.

And that was why he trusted him.

That was why they were friends.

He realized that without a clock, he wouldn't have any track of time of what happened in the outside world.

He hated the feeling of not knowing. Of not having enough information.

He supposed that he'd to get used to it.

But he still hated it.

His stomach growled. He ignored it.

Instead, he focused on the lava.

The magnificent, swirling curtain of falling lava, streaked with bright oranges and yellows and the rare red. He lost himself into the bright patterns and movement.

The mesmerizing flow of gold and light, so warm and hot yet so hot that it's cold.

And then it _wooshed_ down, disappearing and breaking him out of his trance with a cold breeze.

He blinked so his eyes could adjust.

It was the Warden again (not that he was expecting anyone else).

He'd play along, and he _wouldn't become what he's pretending to be_.

Hopefully.

"Who caused the explosions?" the Warden demanded the instant he stepped into the cell.

Dream froze.

"Who did you manipulate into causing the explosions?" he repeated more harshly.

"What do you mean?" Stall, he had to stall and think.

The Warden's sword appeared. His heart leapt.

Curse his jumping heart.

"I don't know," he lied shakily. It's what a fearful man would do.

"You do."

"There isn't any way for me to contact anyone."

"You do know."

Did he catch a tinge of desperation right there?

" _I don't know_ ," he stressed.

The Warden stared at him.

The sword changed to an hammer, and the Warden swung.

He had almost leaned back to dodge it, then remembered not to.

It hurt much more than the sword. Even though the sword had the sharpness enchantment, the hammer crushed into his ribs, breaking multiple bones.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Hammer_

"You must know."

" _I don't_."

The hammer shifted to an axe, "You do know, you're just not telling me. And that has consequences."

He couldn't give Ranboo up.

"Tell me."

He didn't move.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Axe_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Hammer_

Until he was reduced to a sobbing, begging, pleading man, no longer faking an act.

 _How humiliating_ , he thought bitterly, _How someone so powerful could become reduced to_ this.

"You're a monster, Dream. This is what you deserve."

"I do?"

"Yes, Dream," his tone was patronizing, "There is a consequence for everything, didn't I already tell you that?"

"Y-yes," he choked out. He hated how easily he bent to the other's will.

"But if you're a good boy, there wouldn't be any consequences," the Warden drew out slowly.

He nodded shakily. Survival was key.

"Right?"

"Yes."

"So who did it?" he asked softly, expectantly.

He couldn't let Ranboo down.

He couldn't desert him.

"I don't know."

The Warden sighed and spun around, then pearled to the other side.

Gone.

He let out a relieved sigh.

He almost mentally cheered at himself for surviving and staying intact.

Then remembered what the Warden had asked of him.

To be a _good boy_.

He took some more shaky breaths, calming himself down.

_Was this what Tommy had felt during the Exile?_

He didn't know.

His stomach continued to pain him, growling incessantly.

He didn't blame it though. He hadn't eaten for at least a day.

He refused to tell himself that he deserved it.

Did he?

Sometimes he'd look up at the top of the box and imagine the sky. He'd imagine the endless blue sky and the fluffy clouds until he simply couldn't because he couldn't remember what blue looked like.

He'd think about running around in the fields, free like a bird, until the lack of wind brought him down back to earth.

He'd go to the pool of water and dunk his head in, imagining a serene lake with neon coral and rainbow fishes swimming around, until he ran out of breath. Or drowned.

The Warden was back again.

It was probably the next day, too.

"Dream."

He looked up at the Warden from his sitting position next to the lectern.

"Yes?" he answered tiredly.

"Who did it?"

He didn't answer.

" _Who_?"

"I don't know."

The Warden sighed, "Alright then."

What was he going to do to him now?

"I think it's time again I broke you more," the Warden began, conversationally.

He seemed to be waiting for Dream to reply.

Should he give in? Or remain defiant?

"Ok."

"Is that all you have to say, Dream?"

Silence.

"Alright. You know no one loves you, right?"

"Y-yeah."

Does _no one_ love him?

No, Ranboo does... right?

The Warden continued, "Not right now. But if you listen, if you be a good boy, they could love you."

What was he willing to give up for the chance of becoming who he was to his friends again? What consequences was he willing to suffer to be able to feel love?

Then came the next argument- did he deserve love?

"Do I deserve love?" he asked the Warden, voice cracking.

Was he becoming who he was pretending to be, _already_?

Disgusting.

The Warden paused before answering, "Monsters don't deserve love, Dream. Right now, you are a monster. But broken monsters aren't exactly monsters; they're broken. So they could deserve love."

He said it as if it was perfectly reasonable.

"...Ok."

He didn't know if he was only pretending anymore.

He was.

He hoped.

Then, he wondered.

What did it take to break a monster? What were the effects?

"The revenge is over. The justice has been dealt. But the monster still needs to be broken."

The Warden's voice was soothing.

Or was it all just a façade?

"What does it take to break a monster?" the Warden asked himself aloud. "When does it happen?"

Without a warning and faster than what Dream's mind could process, the dreaded sword appeared and hurtled towards his side.

But his body was faster than both his mind and the Warden's, and with practiced movements, he mindlessly stepped back just enough for the blade to miss him.

The Warden studied, "So you aren't broken after all. Not yet, anyways."

 _Stupid_ , he cursed at himself. A broken man did not fight back, did not dodge.

"But to be honest, I thought you were broken before you killed Tommy."

But he almost was. Until he snapped.

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Axe_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Hammer_

_Dream was slain by Awesamdude using The Warden's Will Breaker_

"Please! _STOP_!" each death became slower and more painful than the last.

"I'll be good, I'll be _anything_ you want!" he shouted, throat burning from abuse.

Anything, anything to stop the crashing waves of pain and suffering tearing through his entire body. His head- no, everything pounded and hurted and it was all just an endless cycle of agony.

"Anything?" the tone was curious, yet had a hidden malice.

He nodded with fervor, ignoring the mavolence, " _Anything_ , just _STOP IT_!"

The Warden crouched, grinning, as he removed his sword from Dream's foot, "Alright"

Dream slumped back onto the chipping wall, gasping raggedly for air. Tears tinted pink continued to slide and streak down, black dots obscuring his vision as ashen air met open wound.

"Here," a bright rosy potion appeared in his hand in place of the sword, glinting and swirling with lilac hints. "Have this."

A regeneration potion, he realized numbly. _A regen potion!_

He took the bottle greedily, uncorking it and was about to tip it back and feel the deliciously smoothness of the potion working its way though his hurting body when it was abruptly plucked from his frail, scarred hands.

He looked at the Warden in confusion, then embarrassment.

What was he embarrassed about again?

"Ask for permission first, before taking," the Warden told him emotionlessly, standing up and turning around.

_Is he leaving?_

Yeah, he was leaving.

Dream's throat yearned for the potion.

He shouldn't have shown such eagerness for the potion.

He regretted showing the weakness.

 _This is what happens to everything you love_ , Tommy had told him.

Maybe he was also right about that.

It had been a while since Dream had last thought of burning himself in the lava.

On the 6th day of Tommy's prolonged visit when the cat appeared, to be exact.

He was so distracted by it that he didn't bother thinking about any other activity.

But now, it was gone. And so was his clock.

He couldn't think of anything new to imagine, and so as he stared into the lava, he tipped forwards and let the heat consume him.

The Warden disliked that he killed himself this way so often. In fact, he probably just hated how this clogged up his chat feed.

Sometimes, Dream didn't care about the Warden's opinions and just threw himself in over and over. Other times he'd reconsider the consequences of him doing so and he'd stop himself.

This time, he threw himself in a few times before reconsidering and stopping.

He must be a good little boy, right?

But what was the line between acting and reality?

Had he already crossed it?

The days passed awfully for Dream, both his mind and body.

The Warden had finally given up on asking him who his acquaintance was, to his great relief.

He knew that he was crumbling. That his mind was weakening and that he was more willing to give in.

It was for the hope that he'd eventually escape. That he'd eventually see someone other than the Warden visit him, for food to finally grace his empty stomach.

On the fifth visit after Tommy's death, the Warden deemed him good enough to give him a potato.

A single potato.

He hated how his eyes widened and his pulse jumped, how he could be so excited for a single potato.

How he looked at the Warden for permission to take the lump of uncooked food, and snatched it out of his hand when he nodded.

How he ravenously shoved the piece of food into his own mouth, relishing the feel solid matter to chew and swallow.

The Warden's eyes glimmered with hidden satisfaction, something Dream barely caught.

"What do you say to people when they give you things?" he had asked.

He hated how he stuttered. "T-t-thank y-you."

His rations gradually increased as time went on.

He hated how weak he still was.

So he did exercises. He stretched and walked and ran around his cell to get back into shape when the Warden wasn't there.

He jumped and moved and slowly became stronger.

_If the mind is willing, the flesh could go on and on without many things._

During the visits he could do nothing to stop himself from obeying the Warden. Half of it was because he _couldn't_ , the other half the facade he had built.

But when the Warden wasn't present, he was free.

The Warden had him revive Tommy. He had barely been able to remember the ritual.

Months ago when he had first gotten the book, he forced himself to memorize it.

Every drop of information.

So, inside the cell, he revived his nemesis.

He didn't want to.

But he _had_ to.

Or else.

When the ritual was done, the Warden had carried unconscious Tommy out of the cell. Gently.

He wished someone would do the same to him.

The Warden didn't kill him though. Most likely because they still wanted to use him to revive other people who could die.

Was this really what he was left?

A tool?

The Warden had told him that no one loved him.

Not when he was still a monster.

The Warden told him that people would love him if he wasn't a monster.

Once a monster, always a monster. Unless the monster was broken.

And that the only other way for monsters to be loved was if they were broken.

He didn't believe him.

Because he still had Ranboo.

Ranboo loved him.

But he had begun to doubt.

Ranboo wasn't visiting him. In fact, no one was.

If he was a good boy, was he a broken monster?

The question hadn't surfaced until the 8th visit, but he was too afraid to ask.

He supposed so.

The Warden had told him that a broken monster was still a monster. Just ineffective.

The glass sculpture used to be perfect and whole, untouched and pristine.

Over the years as people chipped away at him, it had become something with more sharply defined edges, something that looked more like a monster, but still beautiful in its own way.

The Warden was trying to smooth the chipped edges, make them ineffective and blunt.

But how hard is it to smooth something with a sharpened blade?

After the 10th visit, time seemed to grow between meetings.

He welcomed the change.

He was still focusing on surviving. He's accepted that his will was broken.

He didn't want to fight back anymore. He didn't want to risk the consequences.

But he's still hoping for escape.

He knows that once he escapes, there would be no consequences. Because the wild was his natural habitat.

Part of him was afraid to escape. If they caught him, the consequences would be severe. But only if he was caught.

He was good at not getting caught.

But one would have to think about how to escape in the first place.

And the only way for him to escape was if he was good enough to be let out.

Dream found that he wanted to see someone other than the Warden. Anyone.

He also found that without books, he had nothing to write on. It bothered him greatly that he couldn't occupy his hands with something to do, so he began tracing over his scars.

He had kept all of them. Very little of his body looked untouched.

He paced around the cell. He didn't jump in the lava though.

He didn't dare.

The 18th visit left the Prisoner in tatters.

Right when the Warden was about to leave, he had finally gotten the courage to ask, "When do I get to leave?"

The Warden's face transformed into a look of utter rage, "Not until you're a good boy. Do good boys ask questions, Dreamy?"

He had come to hate the nickname. It was belittling, and he hated it.

But instead of protesting, he shook his head weakly, "No, Warden."

"Good, good," the Warden, "But you asked a question. And that has consequences."

The Warden jammed his sword into his left thigh.

He screamed.

God, his throat hurt.

But broken monsters scream when hurt. Only monsters don't scream when hurt.

"You know we're friends, right?"

After every visit, he'd ask this question.

"Y-yeah, we're friends," he croaked.

The Warden nodded at his work, "I think we're done for the day."

And like all the other times before, pearled through the bubbling lava to the other side.

He used to keep the curtain open, but realized that it was easier to just pearl through. And the lava was useful.

Dream knew he was deteriorating.

He stopped screaming the instant the Warden left, resting his poor vocal cords.

He wanted to roll himself into the lava and let his body reset, but he couldn't.

He wasn't allowed to.

A gaping hole was left in his thigh, and all he could do was rest on the floor and not move until it naturally healed.

He hated how weak he was.

How he easily he bent to the Warden's will.

He had answered, _Yeah, we're friends_ , so many times that he didn't know if they were actually friends or not.

_Even the finest sword plunged into salt water will begin to rust._

A really long time had passed since the Warden's last visit. The one where he left him on the ground, a hole in his thigh.

The Warden was the one to provide him his food, every time he visited.

At first he was really bored, even as he tried to exercise. Then he became worried, wondering what the Warden was up to.

Then he felt lonely.

He tried to keep himself from missing the Warden, but he did.

He missed the Warden... right?

He was hungry. And he missed food.

And the cat.

He missed the Warden, who provided him food.

Who made him better than the monster he was before.

Who was his friend.

Right?

No.

_No._

He seemed to have forgotten.

The Warden wasn't his friend.

The Warden had _hurt_ him.

The Warden was trying to break his will.

And he needed to get revenge.

There was a consequence for everything anyone did.

Every action has an opposite reaction, which may not be quite as equal as the action but was still a reaction.

But was revenge still the path to go?

Yes.

Yes, it was.

_The wheels of justice grinds slow but grinds fine._

Consequences. There were consequences for everything.

The glass sculpture is still breaking.

Every time the Warden visited him, chips fell and flew away from him.

Unknowingly making him deadlier.

Yet had also weakened him. Made and allowed fissures to spread and formed new cracks.

And left alone, he was slowly falling apart.

But there were more edges than before. And more edges littered on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have chapter 3 and 4 planned out. I think I might stop at chapter 4 or 5, maybe even 6, but i don't have an exact ending planned out yet (only ideas).
> 
> I also have half the thought to write a divergence where dream actually breaks, but for now i'm focusing on this fic lul

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Also go drink some water.
> 
> I'm writing too many prison!Dream fics *cries*


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